This Burning Room

I don't know why I'm crying, but I am. Fat alligator seep out of the corners of my eyes and run harshly down my reddened cheeks. I've been down this beaten path far too many times for this to take such an affect on me. But here I am, curled up in my bed under the covers, hugging the stuffed bear Tommy got us on our first official date, while listening to the saddest of songs.

Tommy was an ass for telling his mom my personal business. He was an even bigger ass for not standing up for me. If you love someone, you should defend them, no matter what. I hated his mom. She sits high up on her pedestal, looking down her long nose at the imperfection below her.

I knew I wasn't perfect. My family was far from perfect. My parents were teenage parents, both of them were far from ready for anything parenthood had to offer. My mom ended up doing it alone, while my dad went to war, trying to make something better for us.

My first six years of life, my dad was in and out of my life. Home for a couple weeks then he was taken away from me and shipped over seas. Finally he was home for good. At first it all smiles and happiness, then even at six, I noticed a change. My dad started drinking heavily, he had a crazy look in his eyes, and was always jumpy. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder took over his life. Eventually it took his life, five years later. He put a bullet through brain to silent his terrors.

My mom was never the same. Some days I would be reminded how she used to be, others I know that I'll never have a dependable motherly figure. I blame her for the way I am. I have a dead father and a mother that lost all self-esteem.

My phone rang. It was Tommy. I press ignore and continue my self loathing. I meant what I said, I wasn't going to let Tommy reel me back in, not this time.

There was a knock on my bedroom door. I ignored it. Whoever it is, came in anyways.

"Baby," It was Tommy.

"How did you get in?" I ask, hiding my face with the covers.

"I have a key, remember?"

"Oh. I want that back," I sniffle.

"Oh Elena, stop crying. She would have called the cops, and the cops have been called to your house enough as it is."

"Just stop, Tommy. I can't believe you're trying to make this my fault. You had no right to tell her that I was in the hospital."

"I didn't know what to do, when I found out. You were really sick and I needed to talk to somebody."

"Then you could have talked to me!"

"How could I have talked to you while you were getting your stomach pumped? You were unconscious and I was scared, okay?"

A couple months ago, Tommy and I got into another fight. This time it was about the battles with myself, anorexia. I had gotten down to eighty-six pounds. I had a wide gap in between my legs, my collarbones jutted out, and you could count each rib, yet I wasn't thin enough.

Kids picked on me at school, calling me fat, not knowing the battles I was going through. My mom made it worse. She would come out of no where and poke my stomach, saying that I jiggled, even though there was nothing there.

I wanted to be skinnier. I needed to be skinnier. I started doubling up on my anti depressants. They made me loose a lot of weight, weight that I didn't have. Tommy took notice in my sunken face and my hair falling out. I was always tired, and sick.

He told me if I didn't try to get better, he would leave me. He couldn't bare to see me like this. I reacted in a way that he didn't like, so he left. I hated the trap that I was in. I didn't want to be this way, I knew that I was hurting myself, but I couldn't stop. I didn't know how. I thought I was crazy. I wanted it all to end. So the night that Tommy left, I popped the rest of my prescription in my mouth and waited for darkness to take me. I woke up in a hospital on suicide watch, with Tommy holding my hand tightly.

Tommy sat beside me on the bed, pulling me in close. He knew that the painful memories were racing through my head. "I'm sorry that I put you through that."

"I'm sorry that you put yourself through that and I couldn't help you."

"I love you," I said as if I was reminding him and myself.

"I love you too baby, forever."